Le Petite Histoire des Pommes de Terre, Chpt 1
by Licorice-Sama
Summary: Liberty's Kids/Robert Asprin/Harry Potter crossover featuring a complex Mary-Sue plot. PG-13 to be safe. Basically what happens when you become bored in French class.
1. Il se sont jetté des pommes de terre

Le Petit Histoire des Pommes de Terre  
  
Chapitre Un: Ils se Jettent des Pommes de Terre.  
  
By: Licorice-Sama  
  
Author's Note: Monsieur Royale and my "Potato Story" as we have dubbed it. Should be a bit of a chapter fic, and should be fairly enjoyable. This is my first story posted @ fanfiction.net so please be nice!!! It is by far not my first fic, but it is one of the first I've done for "Liberty's Kids". It's about a Mary-Sue adventure with the destination of the Liberty's Kids storyline, although why, we do not know. (Well, we DO know, because it's a Mary-Sue, but I'm trying to run AWAY from the cliché....) This should be worth your while, or not, depending on your stance on Mary- Sues, crossovers, and fan fiction in general. (Yes, this does mean that MattyBunny wouldn't like it.) I am debating whether or not to put in the bit about "Dr. Pepper" but we shall see. Hmm... oh yes, the thing about Sarah ingesting mercury for the smallpox vaccination! LOL! Mercury causes mood swings and makes you CRAZY! I think I may have her go around talking to a little red sock named Pawnee Brit, just for fun, and just to prove my point about Mercury. (It's TRUE! I saw it in a biography on Ivan the Terrible in my European History class!) Oh yes, might have marching band/general band references cos I'm a cliché band geek. Um, can't give you any more warning, so ciao!  
  
Disclaimer: I do not own Liberty's Kids. PBS, Dic, and other people own that. I do not own my Digimon stuff, Gundam Wing Stuff, or my Harry Potter Stuff or Stormiya and his family. Digimon is Bandai's and Gundam Wing is Sunrise's, Harry Potter is J.K. Rowling's, and Stormiya's stuff is Monsieur Royale's. (Ok, so other people share in ownership, too! This is just the BASICS!) Robert Asprin owns whatever may appear that be linked to his Myth Series, which means Vic namely, and I only own Sapphire and her family and pets, save for the digimon, which are only partially mine. (I didn't create Digimon, but I created MY digimon!) I also own Ire, the dragon! I don't own Exotica Kayru and her family, which hopefully won't make an appearance, but they belong to my friend, and George Lucas too, I guess. I also don't own Bruce Coville's stuff, which is everything that is from "Into the Land of the Unicorns", but I own the concept of the Wiccan of Luster. Ok, I think I've disclaimed enough, just remember the golden rule of the disclaimer: Me no own, you no sue!  
  
Rating: PG-13, to be safe. I don't know how many people are offended by random potato/Willie Nelson attacks and gratuitous cursing. ^_~  
  
Dedicated to: Monsieur Royale/ Alexandre de GlouGlou, for our original collaboration. MattyBunny, for being mon chèr, marching band--for everything, and Mr. Long, for getting me out of the fan fiction rut, but not completely running me away from it. **crawls back into rut and hugs security blanket** hehe.  
  
Nota Bene: *...* is for emphasis, //...// denotes thoughts, and **...** is author's actions. Okie?  
  
"There is no "I" in marchng band." ~Mr. Morehouse. (Compliments to "The Secret Band Geek Haven" for that one!)  
  
~*Present Day*~  
  
Sapphire LaRauss sighed, laying --stomach-down-- upon a large, gilt, four-post bed in her friend, Stormiya Grastrophe's "retreat" manor in Bordeaux. Her father had died the week prior in the Dark Lord's second rising, and in mourning she had chopped her long, dirty-blonde hair to just below her chin and dyed it a vibrant shade of burgundy. Stormiya looked up from one of his countless books on the life of Marie Antoinette.  
  
"What is it now?" he asked distractedly, growling in aggravation at the mention of the Marquis de Lafayette in his book. His chocolate-colored hair fell into his eyes, and he hurriedly pushed it away. Sapphire made an unsettled sound deep in her throat and stuck her bottom lip out in a pout, sea-blue eyes sparkling.  
  
"I'm bored. I mean, we're magicians, and yet we can't have a little fun!" Stormiya sighed in exasperation, looking up at his militarily- advanced fellow French witch. How she got into Hogwarts he'd never know... especially since she'd spent her life in *New Orleans*!  
  
"No magic on holiday, remember? We're underage," he told her firmly, although silently wishing to take his wand out of the curio cabinet in the hall and cause a little mischief in the Malfoy manor.  
  
"Erg. Hon, I was an assassin at eight! I have studied magic at the 'Magical Institute of Perv' and I'm only now nearing fifteen! I'm something of a magical prodigy, and to not risk bragging, you yourself have demonstrated magical prowess! It's undeniably human of us to want to use our powers for a little fun! So, rightfully, cos of our advancement, we should be able to!"  
  
"What do you suggest?" Stormiya asked testily. Sapphire smirked deviously, a trait she was quite good at, her softly-tanned cheeks dimpling slightly.  
  
"Oh, I think it's in order we take a vacation."  
  
"Where?" Stormiya said, looking at the girl with skeptic brown eyes.  
  
"How about pre-revolutionary France?" she supplied sweetly. She watched Stormiya almost nod in agreement, tempted at the proposal of visiting his beloved France in its prime, as he considered it. Of course, Sapphire was really ready to go *anywhere* but this dreadful manor, with its dark oak doors, mahogany-paneled rooms and hallways, with ebony furniture and baroque decorations and garish gold and red rugs and gloomy medieval paintings.  
  
The room they were in now had a picture of The angel Ramiel, one of Sapphire's favorites. She loved his brilliant blue wings, lapis and vibrant like that of the peacock, and his curls of blond falling into his bright eyes. He had that heavenly radiance, and one of those cliché halos that all the holy of Italian Renaissance art have. She smiled, for this painting of the angel Ramiel upon the clouds of heaven seemed so out of place in this baroque manor of reds and gold and blacks.  
  
She had never known Stormiya to be highly religious. She had been Catholic while growing up, as was customary of her family-- the guise of the French aristocracy: religious and also uncommonly benevolent-- a trait they learned long ago that was necessary for their survival, even if they really *were* practicing witchcraft. Stormiya however, also of noble birth, was of no basic religion, and his family wasn't either. She couldn't understand it. Sapphire had always needed something to hold to; magic and magik weren't enough to satisfy her as explanations of the universe. She needed a place to store her faith, and when through an old matrilineal heritage she became the "Wiccan of Luster"-- Luster was another dimension filled with unicorns and dragons (among other things)-- she found that this was the way of life where she could store her faith and also help her fellow humans and other beings. Something that somehow appealed to her somewhat selfish-brat nature in some way.  
  
"Wait, we're already in France!" he said, bringing her out of her reverie. She shrugged.  
  
"Not in pre-revolutionary... but of course, we need a guide." She looked thoughtful, standing up, as did her new traveling companion. She grabbed her enchanted bag of a shimmering, almost-iridescent cloth.  
  
"And who do you suggest?"  
  
"Somebody who knows what he's doing... somebody off-dimension... somebody on Deva, perhaps. Hmm... I know just the guy!" Sapphire immediately grabbed Stormiya's dark tan arm, and with a BAMF! they were gone.  
  
~*At the Bazaar on Deva*~  
  
"Oh yes, lovely, just spirit us off-dimension to some sandy, hot, STINKY flea market!" Stormiya complained, turning up his nose at a stall selling dragon manure. There were all sorts of people here, from humanoid creatures to some that seemed like they had crawled from the prehistoric seas.  
  
"Oh please, Stormiya! It's a *bazaar*," said Sapphire distractedly, pushing back a lock of burgundy hair and grabbing his arm, tugging him up to a stall where a short, red-skinned devil looking thing sat behind his table, different time-telling devices laid out before him.  
  
"What is THAT?!" Stormiya asked, almost arrogantly. Sapphire rolled her eyes, smiling, humoring him.  
  
"A native. They're called Deveels, Stormiya."  
  
"So, you want a pocket watch, miss?" the Deveel asked of her, picking up on her speech immediately. Deveels could pick up on languages extraordinarily quick, and this specimen was no exception to the species. She flashed him a toothy smile.  
  
"Oh, maybe later. Right now I need some directions," said Sapphire, tossing a few gold coins in one hand. She had retrieved these from her enchanted bag. The Deveel eyed the money raptly and nodded.  
  
"Oh, and where to, miss?" he asked, his accent on her English middle- eastern. One hand rested upon his pot-belly and a pointed tail lashed from side to side behind him as he sat on a stubby-legged stool.  
  
"The Great Skeeve's place," she told him firmly, in a haughty drawl. While she was friends, loosely, with the magician and his friends and cohorts, she would rather not risk try to find the tent (Which cleverly hid something along the lines of Stormiya's manor, just as wizard's tents mask a complete apartment-like space.) in the maze of tents, stalls, and cafés.  
  
"Go down to the end of this row," the Deveel pointed in the direction he meant, "Then go seven rows left, down three, and right five." Sapphire wrote this down on her hand with a pink pen she had in her bag and stated it aloud, confirming it.  
  
"Seven left, down three, right five... got it!" She smiled, putting down three gold pieces for the Deveel. "Thanks, Monsieur! Ciao!" Sapphire then grabbed Stormiya by the wrist and began walking down the row of stalls and tents if various colors and materials. It was so loud and hot in here, along with the foreign smells, that it nearly gagged Stormiya and made Sapphire think of a caravan settling for awhile in the great African deserts.  
  
"Dragon manure! Honestly! Who would buy such--"  
  
"It's actually quite good at fertilizing certain off-dimension plants you wouldn't know about, but are better alternatives to most of the herbs we use in potions," Sapphire said, cutting Stormiya's statement off. counting off rows as they began walking left.  
  
"Like what?"  
  
"The Flower of Shadow, for one," she said to the young wizard, "is an excellent replacement for mandrake. Of course, it grows only in Limbo for some reason, which is where the guy we're going to team up with hails from."  
  
"This Skeeve guy is from someplace called Limbo? Must be a pretty depressing guy," Stormiya muttered, looking over at a large, goatish- looking guy who was talking to a silver, serpentine-looking female. Her amber eyes met Stormiya's brown and she gave a low 'hiss' which was enough insensitive for the little wizard of the magical nobility of the French 'Ministry of Magic' to not stare. He was drawn back to attention when Sapphire laughed, tossing her short hair, ends curled under, and gave him a haughty grin.  
  
"If you would pay attention to me, you'd know that Skeeve isn't from Limbo. Also, he isn't the guy we're going to see."  
  
"He's not? Then why did you ask for his--"  
  
"Darling, he's friends with a very close friend of *mine*," once again Sapphire was looking straight ahead. The young wizard wondered how a girl shorter than he could drag him all about, when she didn't seem much stronger than he was. Her words, of course, made Stormiya immediately suspicious.  
  
"Oh God, he's not a vampire, is he?" he asked, dreading the response.  
  
"How did ya guess?" Sapphire said in a sweet voice that was very unlike herself. Stormiya shook his head, knowing all too well of her attraction and relationships within the species.  
  
"I'll never understand your fascination with the undead," he said to himself. Sapphire smiled, turning as they reached the seventh row.  
  
"Funny, neither will I," she replied, although also to herself, as they drew ever nearer to the tent.  
  
***  
  
"Hello Guido! Is Skeeve around?" Sapphire cheerily asked of one of Skeeve's mob bodyguards (well, cliché mob bodyguard's). The tall, broad, muscular man in the pin-striped gray suit smiled down at the petite witch and her cowering friend.  
  
"Hey Sapphire, how's youse been doin' these days?" Guido asked of her. She shrugged, giving a confused half-smile. "I see youse cut youse's hair."  
  
"Yeah, a little... grieving technique," Sapphire grimaced, squinting her sea-blue eyes shut, "my father died recently and I'm still a bit hurt." Guido patted her gently on the shoulder.  
  
"I understand, and I'se sorry for youse. ... But yeah, da boss is here, go right on in, as soon as I knows youse friend, of course." Sapphire giggled carelessly, dusting off her blue jeans and straightening her white tank top.  
  
"Oh, this is Stormiya Grastrophe. He's a noble and a magician, like Skeeve and me. He, of course, couldn't do any harm, because I have his wand right here," she said, patting her bag. Stormiya gave an outraged cry.  
  
"Hey! That's mine!"  
  
"Oh hush, you don't need it yet, and you'll get it back soon enough," Sapphire told him sternly. He sighed in defeat, knowing vengeance later was just as good a plan as any.  
  
"Ok then, go right in Sapphire, and Mr. Grastrophe," Guido told them, allowing them entrance into the courtyard. Sapphire took a seat at the base of an elaborate fountain in the middle of it all, as Guido relayed the message to Skeeve. Stormiya sat upon a marble bench, dark-tan face drawn into a pout.  
  
"You know, Sapphire," Stormiya said finally, "I'm starting to think that--"  
  
"GLEEP!" came a cry off to the right of the fountain, and the two magicians turned to see a dark-green dragon barreling straight towards them, head held high above the skinny neck and chubby serpentine body, the long tail lashing to and fro to help balance the creature as it ran.  
  
"Hey-hey Gleep!" Sapphire said, jumping to her feet as the animal skidded to a halt. She petted the creature on the nose and in turn he gave her smelly dragon kisses. She giggled, wiping away the saliva. "Gleep, this is my friend Stormiya... what do you think of him?" Sapphire asked the creature. Gleep cocked his head to one side, staring at the young man, before giving a "Gleep!" and tackling him and giving him dragon kisses also.  
  
"Ah! Help! The dragon is attacking me! Help!" Stormiya cried, semi- paralyzed with fear. Sapphire giggled as Gleep backed off the boy, also snickering, or as best as dragons can snicker. Stormiya wiped off his face with the sleeve of his yellow shirt, his black slacks now dusty.  
  
"Sapphire?" asked a voice, and she turned, seeing a strawberry-blonde young man, perhaps three or so years older than her, at least, in a red tunic and green leggings. He was walking towards her, leather boots thudding softly on the marble steps.  
  
The dragon went up to the young man and received a pat on the head, as the blue-eyed character smiled happily at his unexpected guests.  
  
"Hey Skeeve, how's tricks?" Sapphire asked casually. Skeeve just laughed and gestured towards the doorway above the stairs with a nod of his head.  
  
"Please, come on in, we can talk over wine!" Sapphire smiled at this invitation and nodded to Stormiya to follow.  
  
"Thank you, Skeeve. Of course, we came to see if you've seen Vic lately." The older magician frowned thoughtfully, ushering them into a drawing room of sorts, and sat his guests at a table.  
  
"Well, we had lunch yesterday," he said, "and he said he wasn't very busy for the rest of the week, and he might drop by today."  
  
"Perfect!" Sapphire cried happily. "This goes hand-in-hand with Stormiya and my vacation plans!" She cast a glance at the wizard boy who was sitting sullenly, his brown eyes dulled.  
  
"Quel domage," Stormiya said quietly, "I was hoping he had fallen on a stake!"  
  
***  
  
"Oh, Sapphire LaRauss, what a pleasant surprise!" came the casual drawl of a dark-haired, pale man in glasses standing in the doorway of the drawing room. He was very well-groomed, Stormiya noticed, when he looked. He wore a dark blue turtleneck sweater, wool Stormiya thought (and Sapphire later confirmed), slender black slacks, shiny ankle-high boots, and dark sunglasses.  
  
"Bonjour Vic, comment-ça va?" she asked of the artistic vampire.  
  
"Ça va, merci, et toi, ma chèrie?" Vic replied, still in that casual drawl.  
  
//So this is Vic//, Stormiya thought, //definitely does seems her type!// He had to keep himself from laughter.  
  
"Ça va," Sapphire replied in the same nonchalant tone, and came up to give her friend a hug, although he was substantially taller than her diminutive 5'2". The vampire smiled, taking off his glasses to reveal vibrant vermilion eyes; eyes that had no frightful effect on the little Wiccan. Of course, Stormiya was, of course, shocked.  
  
"That's freaky!" Stormiya exclaimed, and then regained composure as the witch and vampire laughed.  
  
"So, why are you visiting Deva this time of year, Sapphire? I thought you'd still be in that cheesy *magic* school of yours." Vic purposely mocked the word "magic" since it was, in their opinion, inferior to "magik".  
  
"Oh, I should be, you and I both know that. Of course, you've probably heard our Dark Lord, Voldemort, has rose again and of course, the curse he put on Papa came back to bite him in the ass." Sapphire said this bitterly, her eyes cold. Vic ran a hand through her now-short hair, smiling to himself.  
  
"Well, that explains the haircut. I guess that old geezer headmaster of yours let you off the hook. Lord knows you haven't had enough trouble this past year," Vic said, referring to her tumultuous year beginning with her service in OZ Corps. and ending with the deaths of Treize Khushrenada, her mentor, and now her father. (NB: I was going to try and leave out the GW stuff, but I figure I have to somehow or other make a comparison of the American uniforms to Treize's. **giggle**)  
  
"Oui, c'est triste," Sapphire sighed, shaking her head. She then looked up at her friend, banishing all traces of lamentation from her face. "Of course, Vic, we have a new proposition for you! We've decided we want to take a vacation to pre-revolutionary France!" Sapphire slyly winked at Vic as if to let him know that France, however, was not her *desired* destination. She had been reading war novels, and after she had had enough of Hemingway and Crane, she had gone on to the subject of the American Revolution and decided that was really where she wanted to be!  
  
"Oh, really now? Why should I come, though?" Vic asked playfully. Sapphire giggled.  
  
"Well, because we need another magician there, and also because if we don't have a mediator Stormiya and I are likely to kill each other or someone else!"  
  
"Like that jerk the Marquis de Lafayette. I hope he falls down!" Stormiya said viciously, stomping his thick-soled black boot. Sapphire just shrugged. Vic laughed good-naturedly, showing small, sharpened eyeteeth.  
  
"Ok, so when do we start out?" Vic asked.  
  
"Right now!" Sapphire declared, and with a careful incantation and a BAMF! they were gone.  
  
~*Benjamin Franklin's print shop*~  
  
Sarah was angry at James for some reason. She sat across from him, arms folded, mouth in a frown, watching him writing one of his articles on the virtues of the revolution. She was probably mad because he borrowed her cloak for some practical joke, and returned it five days later with tomato stains upon it. Of course, that's just speculation. Henri sat on the floor between them, looking at a sheet of paper with the alphabet written on it. Suddenly, the little French boy with shaggy black hair gave a shudder. Sarah looked down on him in surprise, blinking her light green eyes.  
  
"Why did you shudder just then, Henri?" she asked, tucking an orange- auburn lock of hair behind her ear. Slowly, he replied, "I don't know."  
  
~TSUZUKU~  
  
Author's Note: hehe! I'm proud of this! I really am! I hope you all enjoyed, but if you didn't, I would enjoy hearing why (in a nice, constructive way... no flames, if you will.). Stay tuned for my next installment! Yes, this doesn't revolve around "Liberty's Kids" yet, but it will, of course! Just wait for more chapters and it will! 3, Licorice! 


	2. Ils sont tombé sur la rue!

Le Petit Histoire des Pommes de Terre  
  
Chapitre deux: Ils Sont Tombé Sur la Rue!  
  
By: Licorice-Sama  
  
Author's Note: Wow, Chapter two already of my potato story! I'm so proud... sort of. In this chapter we have our characters take on aliases, get 18th century clothing, and have Sapphire get to meet James! (Oh no! Mary-Sue love story! "Run, run! Hide, hide! Cover butts, hotcha!" ~Squijum.) Yes, I have a flair for the romantic, but I'll try to keep it realistic and not too sappy, I'll promise that much, at least! (Of course, our precious non- anime bishounen may become a plushie before Sapphire is through!) Well, I haven't much more to say, other than beware falling potatoes, Willie Nelson (plushies), and the occasional hamster in the sousaphone! ^.~ Enjoy, mes chèrs!  
  
Disclaimer: I do not own "Liberty's Kids". What?! You knew that?! Oh well. I do not own Harry Potter, either. Oh, you say you knew that too? Sorry. I do not own Bruce Coville's concepts for Luster, but I own the "Wiccan of Luster" concept. You have read the previous disclaimer, no? You are becoming bored with me? Oh phooey. I also do not own Gundam Wing and Digimon, among other things. Yes, of course we knew this, because no where on the credits do we see in capitol lettering "LICORICE SAMA". Je suis terrible. I would like to stress that I do not own Robert Asprin's MYTH series in any way, shape, or form, as much as I would like to. Pardonez- moi? You didn't know that?! Wow... I feel loved. Maybe you should refer back to the other disclaimer for further informational purposes. Er, well, basically, as said in my favorite disclaimer of all time: Me no own, you no sue.  
  
Rating: PG-13, obviously. Although painful blows in the arm have remedied *my* language problem, Sapphire and Stormiya have very bad language problems. Plus, they have tendencies to make sick jokes, and I'm still a wee bit cautious of letting some seven-year-old read about gratuitous violence involving potatoes and Willie Nelson falling out of a tree atop a poor, defenseless Sapphire. (Yeah, right.) Well, It's PG-13. I don't care if it could have a lower rating, I'm being safe, because the less people hit with potatoes the better. Thank you!  
  
Dedicated to: Jayhawk DeVain, Sapphire's cousin, and my Legolas Fangirl friend. No one could deserve to be in a dedication note like you could. You are an admirable person, and have inspired me greatly. You'll never know the service and friendship you paid me, and I only hope that my debt is at least more than halfway repaid. "Never Surrender".  
  
NB: Once again, *...* is for emphasis, **...** is the author's actions, and //...// denotes thoughts.  
  
"Our drinking section has a serious tuba problem." ~Unknown college student (This is also from the Secret Band Geek Haven... hehe)  
  
~*A wooded area about five miles from Philadelphia*~  
  
"Ow!" cried Sapphire, falling upon hard ground, dust rising around her as she saw Vic managed to become entangled in a bush, and Stormiya fall in much the same manner as she had. She raised herself to her knees to rub her bruised backside.  
  
"You know, falling is not the preferred method of time-travel," Vic said sarcastically to his young witch friend, climbing out of the bush and patting her on the head.  
  
"I think I have learned my lesson," Sapphire replied, grumbling something obscene in French.  
  
"Son of a bitch," Stormiya cursed, then looked up at Sapphire, a strange expression in his brown eyes. Sapphire identified this expression as something close to amusement.  
  
"Nice chemise," he suddenly laughed, pointing to the sleeveless cream-colored garment Sapphire wore. She looked down, screamed, and jumped to cower behind Vic, now clad in tan leggings, stockings that went to his shin, and shoes with big, brass buckles, and a loose-sleeved silk shirt that tied at the neck.  
  
She didn't make any remark about his attire, though, for she was going to get back at Stormiya. She glowered at him.  
  
"Well, what's with the nightgown, Artie?" She taunted, referring to the white linen, long-sleeved nightshirt Stormiya wore. He shrugged.  
  
"I don't know, but you could have chosen better clothing when you sent us back here!" Stormiya shouted back, hurriedly pushing away another brown lock of hair that had fallen into his face. Sapphire looked startled, her short, burgundy hair mussed up and raising softly as a breeze passed by.  
  
"I didn't know clothing was an option," countered the witch defensively. She picked up her enchanted bag, which was hanging on the branch of a nearby aspen. Stormiya snorted, upset.  
  
"I'm not going around in a nightshirt all day!" He finally shouted, crossing his arms over his chest.  
  
"You won't have to, because when we find a shop we'll all buy garments," Sapphire told him firmly.  
  
"As well as choose for ourselves our traveling identities and try to only wear black. The sunlight on your dimension, outside of the shaded woods, is very harsh, and I wish to move by darkness whenever possible, as well as go as undetected as possible in the dark. We shall wear black, for that matter, and lots of it." Vic's words startled Stormiya, and to an extent Sapphire, but soon realized the logic to them. This was a vacation they were taking in someplace that was out of their time. Therefore, they had to be "watchers" more than active participants, but she hoped a little mischief wouldn't hurt all that much... would it?  
  
"Very well, I will be Comptess Rabi de Printemps... you, Vic, can be my mentor, the Transylvanian Duke de Feu," Vic smiled at her words, approving of this guise. He put on his dark sunglasses as she turned to Stormiya and continued, "--and you, Stormiya, will be my cousin, le Compte Stormiya de Printemps... d'accord?" Her sea-blue eyes sparkled in mischief as Stormiya seemed upset.  
  
"D'accord... *anything* is better than Glouglou," he replied finally in resignation.  
  
"Even Donkey Butt?" Sapphire asked sweetly, innocently. Stormiya rolled his eyes, not fooled.  
  
"Ok, fine, Glouglou is better than Donkey Butt, *tu vache*," he said. Sapphire flipped her hair away from her face giddily.  
  
"USHI!" she cried in delight, then said "on y va!" They set off down the road, to find some shop to give them proper garments... hopefully.  
  
~*Dr. Franklin's Print shop*~  
  
"SARAH!" James was seething, head and shoulders coated with black ink. He stood in the doorway, where when he had opened the ajar door, the pot of ink strategically placed there had fallen upon him, oozing down his hair and skin, bleeding into his white linen shirt and green vest. He wiped the ink away from his eyes, glaring daggers at the furnishings of the room just as Sarah waltzed in, carrying doilies she had been crocheting.  
  
"Yes, James-- oh my," she put a hand to her mouth to suppress a giggle, triumph lighting her soft green eyes. "Well, how could that have possibly happened?"  
  
"What were you thinking!" James demanded, still noticeably upset. Sarah grinned, tossing her orange-auburn hair over her shoulder carelessly and smoothing out her pale-bluish skirt.  
  
"Maybe this time you will think before pelting my cloak with tomatoes," she said arrogantly, and turned quickly, exiting the room. James sighed and went back into the room from whence he came, grabbing a rag to wipe some of the ink off his face.  
  
"Stupid Sarah," he muttered, "I'll show her. ..."  
  
~* A small dress shop on the outskirts of Philadelphia*~  
  
Stormiya and Vic had already been clad in clothing fit for a funeral. (Stormiya had been most aggravated to learn they were in revolutionary North America, instead of pre-revolutionary France.) Both men wore black breeches, and black equestrian boots. Stormiya wore a boiled white, cotton shirt with a black satin vest over it, and black wool overcoat, whereas Vic had a white shirt, red vest, and black overcoat. Both men's ties were black.  
  
Vic had decided that since he was a vampire, it would be appropriate a little red should be worn in his ensemble. Sapphire had cast a disguise spell upon his red eyes to make them appear a tranquil brown, but Vic still chose to wear his sunglasses. It was just part of his look, he had told Sapphire, now Rabi, when she had asked. She had shrugged this off and went to bug Stormiya who was walking deliberately ahead of them.  
  
Finally, Sapphire, or Rabi, had been clothed, and she stood before her traveling companions so they could survey the damage.  
  
"You look just like a Mary-Sue!" Vic said with a jovial grin, pointed eyeteeth bared lovingly.  
  
"Thank you, and I feel like one too!" Sapphire replied with a fake grin, in her fake sweet voice. She wore a black gown that went to her feet, black ribbon outlining her black, white lace-covered bodice, and extending to the hem of her skirt. Her sleeves were circled twice with the black ribbon, creating poufs just before her elbows, and then the sleeves were duck-tailed flares of white lace with embroidered flowers. She had black, patent leather, and pointed-toed shoes with big, flaring black bows. The barrette holding back her hair was an onyx and turquoise oval with turquoise "flames" shooting backwards from it for a few centimeters. Something Stormiya had expected she would add to her outfit, disregarding her silver amulet with the "W" carved onto the front. She had taken it off the silver chain and replaced it with a simple black ribbon, and had turned the necklace into a choker.  
  
Sapphire twirled about, the skirt floating away from and around her legs and hips.  
  
"Wonderful, Saph, er, *Rabi*, you look like it's the last spring," Stormiya grinned, knowing full well Rabi meant 'Spring, or Harvest', and that 'Printemps' was French for Spring also. Sapphire's gaze was far away as she clung to her enchanted, iridescent, black handbag. It could hold things much larger than it's size, in vast quantities, and was one of Sapphire's most treasured possessions.  
  
"I brought my flute," she said softly, sea-blue eyes focused far away down the road, at the afternoon sun being pulled by its Lyre-playing charioteer towards the far-away ocean shore.  
  
"So, what does that have to do with anything?" Stormiya asked immediately, almost rudely. Sapphire did not turn to meet his inquisitive gaze, her eyes fixed upon the horizon.  
  
" 'The Last Spring', of course. It's a song, Stormiya, a song I've played, and wish to find again so that I may play it forever more." Sapphire looked as if she were lamenting, and Vic caught her thoughts immediately.  
  
//In a way, this year was 'The Last Spring'... for I will never see Papa again, and I won't see Treize again, either, for that matter.//  
  
Vic came up and patted her shoulder. She was broken from her trance at this action and looked up curiously at the vampire.  
  
"I understand,*Rabi*, that you are feeling a... deep void, from missing these... necessary men in your life, but I promise that you will be able to go on." Sapphire/Rabi smiled at this, giving Vic a reassuring hug around his middle.  
  
"Oh, I know all that, I've told myself that over and over, it's just you don't realize how hard it is to 'get over it' as the saying goes," she said softly, averting her gaze and staring at the ground. Vic smiled faintly, kissing the top of her head in an almost fatherly fashion.  
  
"All right, but in the meantime let's find an inn to stay at to get out of all the sunlight. I really can't stand it as well as you can-- even though I'm being kind of whiny because some of my kind can't even stand light at all!" Vic laughed at this, and even Rabi gave a small giggle, winking at Stormiya who looked positively bored.  
  
"I suppose that's the best idea I've heard in a long time! I'm afraid I've become something of an insomniac after Father's passing, and I need a little rest, too," Sapphire said, then grinned softly to herself. She began shaking her fist at the cloudless blue sky. "I fist you good, Voldemort! I spit upon the bed you were born in!" She then giggled at the strange looks she was getting from her companions.  
  
"Come on, there's an inn up there," Stormiya grumbled, pointing to a large building about fifty paces before them. Vic nodded and the group began walking towards it.  
  
"We can sing Willie Nelson songs!" Sapphire said evilly, knowing how much Stormiya hated him. Of course, Sapphire had no complaints with the guitar player, and at times even *liked* him. Vic grinned, acknowledging her game, and the two began to sing.  
  
" 'Good mornin', America, how are ya? Said don't you know me, I'm your native son! I'm the train they call the 'City of New Orleans'. I'll be gone five hundred miles 'fore the day is done!' "  
  
"OH GOD, NOOOOOOOO!!!" Stormiya screamed, running the rest of the way to the inn.  
  
"Pity, he left his wand," Sapphire said sweetly, pulling the mahogany wand out of her bag. Vic just laughed good-naturedly as they walked the rest of the way to the inn.  
  
(NB: Well, Sapphire will be referred to as 'Rabi' for the duration of this fic, unless otherwise noted, just so we are all clear on that!)  
  
~*Dr. Franklin's Print shop*~  
  
James sat upon the sidewalk outside the print shop, wearing a clean shirt and vest, this one blue. He had managed to get most of the ink off of his skin and hair, but there were still dark patches of his ponytail and along his part, as well as a dark smudge on his cheek and nose. His normally bright blue eyes were darkened with anger towards Sarah. His mind swam with revenge schemes.  
  
//Maybe if I told the British she wasn't really a loyalist... no, that's stupid any way you look at it. Perhaps if I make friends with an Indian warrior and have him pretend to scalp her... Hey! I like that idea! ... No, wouldn't happen. Oooh... this is hard!//  
  
James groaned aloud, burying his head upon his knees, shielding it with his folded arms. He didn't look up as a vengeful Stormiya passed by him.  
  
"I'll show that Rabi... I'll... I'll turn her into a lumberjack!" James thought this muttering awful strange, but it didn't persuade him to look up until Rabi and Vic passed by, promenading down the middle of the street, talking together happily.  
  
"I think perhaps we should stop that panty-thief Ron Weasley from stealing Stormiya's undies... it's making him *very* irritable," Rabi said to Vic, giggling quietly to herself. James had looked up at this, immediately attracted to the two black-clad figures. They looked as if they were in mourning, he decided, and was able to listen, unnoticed, to their conversation.  
  
"I think perhaps Mr. Weasley isn't the only bee in his bonnet," Vic had replied. The contrast of pale and tan struck James as highly irregular for traveling partners, especially when the man, not the woman, was the pale one. Perhaps, he decided, the man was a scholar and the young woman was a farmhand or indentured servant, but that still didn't seem very likely.  
  
"Vic, I am not a bee, and Stormiya doesn't wear bonnets," Rabi giggled sweetly. "Of course, you just gave me a very interesting idea that I may have to follow through very soon. ..."  
  
"Thank God you weren't born a man and are not a philosophe. Creationism would be regarded as a myth and people would think man was born of toast," Vic said in sarcasm, wrapping his arm around her waist and giving her a little hug. Rabi was thankful she was petite, and not any bigger, because she would not want to be hugged hard.  
  
"Oh, I don't believe man was born of toast! How silly do I look?" she asked.  
  
"Like a silly fangirl," Vic said to her with a smirk, ending the conversation. James puzzled over this conversation as the couple disappeared into the inn down the road.  
  
//Strange,// thought he, //that such nice-looking people can turn out to have the most interesting, if not weird, conversations I've ever heard!//  
  
~*That evening*~  
  
Rabi slept quietly beside Vic on the large, cornhusk-stuffed mattress at the inn they had seen. They had rented a room with two beds, and Rabi and Vic had decided to share, since they were very close friends. Of course, Rabi was also worried Stormiya might snore thunderstorms that would blow her off the bed if she slept by him. So, she slept next to Vic, skirt splayed out neatly behind her, the vampire sighing in his sleep as he rolled over, facing the dark, green velvet curtains blocking out the evening sun.  
  
Stormiya sat reading another book on Marie Antoinette that Rabi had taken out of her enchanted bag and given to him before she had taken her nap with Vic. He looked up at the slumbering girl, burgundy tresses falling back over the pillow and softly crushed under her cheek, and grinned. Slyly, he moved towards the small nightstand between the beds, lacquered dark, and slowly opened the drawer, willing it to be silent, and then stared gleefully at the silky black bag laying before him. No sooner had he touched the bag had Rabi's hand clamped around his wrist, her eyes open and pupils dilated and irises glowing an obscure shade of blue, giving her an almost feral look in the darkness. The young man gave a start, his eyebrows shooting up and brown eyes widening, the whites of his eyes shining almost as bright as Rabi's eyes.  
  
Without skipping a beat, Rabi removed his hand from the drawer, got out her bag, and closed the drawer.  
  
"How'd you do that?" Stormiya asked her, as her eyes returned to normal.  
  
"Neat trick, huh? Since I used a disguise spell to make Vic's eyes seem brown, I used the same spell on mine, only to make them glow blue!" Rabi giggled evilly, opening her bag and pulled out Stormiya's wand, the ebony wood glittering from a recent polishing, and handed it to its rightful owner. She smiled sweetly.  
  
"Thank you," Stormiya said condescendingly, if not diplomatically. Rabi winked at him.  
  
"All you had to do was wait. Patience *is* a virtue, Stormiya," Rabi smiled and got up off the bed, walking to the closet on the other side of the bed where Vic still slept, and took out a black velvet cloak, the hood large and it was lined with ermine dyed indigo. With a large flourish, she put it on, fastening the clasp with the symbol of her Goddess: a full moon flanked by two crescent moons. Stormiya watched in dull interest.  
  
"Where are you going?" he said curiously. She smiled at him, grabbing her bag and heading for the door.  
  
"I'm going out. I want to see what this city has to offer, and I'm not waiting any longer. Tell Vic I'll be back very soon. Toodles," said Rabi, and left the room before Stormiya could even get a word out. She smirked playfully, taking out a pair of white lace gloves and putting them on, skipping down the hallway, through the foyer, and out the door into the unfolding twilight.  
  
"Vacation is important... but freedom is everything," Rabi smiled to the first stars of evening, diving in and out of their blue ocean, darkening, as the moon came to swim along beside them. She then gave an inward smirk, her eyes downcast and her lips closed. "However," she added, "freedom is best enjoyed when one is on her own." She sighed and began walking down the street, the cloak drawn around her, the black enchanted bag clutched in her left hand. She hummed softly to herself as she walked, watching the nightly rituals of these people.  
  
"Hmm... a print shop, how nice," she said to herself, opening her bag and taking out a manuscript. She smirked to herself as she read the title. 'Rants on Why I Hate Republicanism but Ludicrously Support It, by Sapphire LaRauss.' She laughed to herself, replacing the book and closing the bag and walking into the print shop.  
  
A strong-looking African man preparing a letter tray in front of a printing press met Rabi. A young boy with black hair, held back loosely in a ponytail, looked up at her curiously with innocent brown eyes. She smiled sweetly at the scene as a boy about her age with a blonde ponytail came out from a door a few paces behind the press.  
  
"Hello Miss, how can we help you?" asked the African man, a very pleasant character. She smiled, bowing her head in respect, or one of its synonyms.  
  
"Bonsoir, Monsieur," Rabi said sweetly, "I was wondering if you sell any guides to this fair city."  
  
"Depends on what you want," spoke up the blonde young man, wiping his hands on a rag and coming up to the oak counter she stood at, "if you want a map, it would be more expensive than one of our newspapers telling of current events and things happening in Philadelphia." Rabi smiled, taking out her coin purse and opening it, taking out a few colonial money notes. She was thankful Stormiya had recommended stopping at "Gringotts" before going any further out of the woods that morning.  
  
"Oh, I don't think we have to worry, Monsieur, for I am well prepared to pay the price for both," Rabi grinned sweetly, closing her coin purse curtly.  
  
"Very well. I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name, Miss...?" the young man asked, almost arrogantly.  
  
"Of course you didn't, because I did not offer one. I am Comptess Rabi du Printemps," Rabi told him, matching his tone perfectly although it was in her feminine timbre. The boy, Henri, had never heard of such a Countess, but he had heard people could buy some titles of nobility, so he presumed this may have been her case.  
  
"Well, Miss Printemps--"  
  
"Rabi, if you please," Rabi instructed, interjecting the boy. Was that ink she saw painting the roots of his soft, blond hair?  
  
"All right, Rabi, I'll get your paper and map." Rabi's eyes fluttered closed momentarily.  
  
"Thank you." Henri came up, looking at the young woman dressed all in black.  
  
"Comptess," he asked, "Vous êtes française?" Rabi laughed softly to herself, finding this one of the most cheery things she had seen all evening.  
  
"Mais oui, mon fils! Je suis très française!" Rabi replied with zeal. Henri smiled.  
  
"Moi aussi, Comptess du Printemps! Je suis français!" The boy replied excitedly. Rabi smiled and reached across the counter to ruffle his hair.  
  
"Ah, Je sais, mon fils, et je suis hereuse. Pour je ne veux pas chanser les chansons français avec les Amèricains!" She then giggled sweetly and walked towards the door after she received her paper and map. "Malhereusement, I have business to attend to. Perhaps I'll return tomorrow afternoon or evening, depending on my plans, because I have some things I may want in print. Merci Messieurs, et bonsoir." With that, 'Comptess Rabi du Printemps' returned to the night.  
  
"I didn't even get to introduce myself," James said, dumbstruck. Henri chuckled, shaking his head. James looked at the boy as if he was insane, but decided it was best not to ask. For all he knew that Rabi du Printemps had said something about him to Henri that he was certain he did not want to know. He sighed.  
  
"Well, we still have work to do," Moses, the African man, said.  
  
"We're going to be here awhile, then," James said tiredly, for he was already very tired, "a long while."  
  
~TSUZUKU!~  
  
Sorry it's so late! I didn't like my first idea that much, and I had to come back and repair it! Which takes a long time, considering my schedule. However, I have one day of freedom left, so I'll see if I can finish chapter three! Au revoir! 


End file.
